


Charles Xavier is Enceinte

by royal_chandler



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most days, okay <i>all</i> days, Charles finds his sister to be extraordinarily meddlesome. However, sometimes, if not often, he's grateful for this fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charles Xavier is Enceinte

**Author's Note:**

> Answer to [this prompt](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/11912.html?thread=23511944#t23511944) that I found while stalking the X-Men kink meme.
> 
> Back in 1952, there was an I Love Lucy episode entitled "Lucy is Enceinte" because CBS thought that the word 'pregnant' was too vulgar for television. I find this silly but there's just something about the phrasing.

On Wednesdays Raven has a free period between her Russian poetry seminar and Comparative Mutant Relations class, the same as Charles’ lunch hour so they always meet at a cafe downtown. A modest, homey, and soft-lit establishment caught between a silversmith's shop and an Irish pub. It’s an odd location but works in their favor when they don’t have to wait in a line that files to the door during the noon rush.

“You're still sick,” Raven comments disapprovingly once they’re sat at a table, loosening the knot of her scarf. “Your face looks entirely empty of color and I’m half expecting you to barf all over my turkey sandwich.”

“I haven’t been able to keep anything down all morning,” Charles admits after sipping at his ginger tea, which seems to be calming his nausea—combating the offending fumes from the pickles in Raven’s lunch—but only time will tell. 

Her golden eyes regard him with concern. “Charles, this has lasted for nearly a week now. Have you thought about making an appointment with your doctor?"

Charles offers her a wan smile, squeezes her hand lightly. “I appreciate that, love, but I’m sure everything is fine. It could be the flu or—”

“What? A 168-hour bug?” Raven shakes her head, her growing flame-colored hair spilling over the front of her shoulders. She crosses her arms before her. “What are your symptoms?”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Oh must we do this? Really, Raven, you sound as terrible as Erik. I’m fine.”

“I will _drag_ you to the nearest physician’s office,” she tells him in no uncertain terms, the image she lends him vivid.

With no choice but to give in, Charles sighs. “Let’s see, fatigue, nausea, poor appetite, common symptoms of influenza.” His sister’s stare is withering and knowing so he further admits, “There have been a couple dizzy spells and maybe some cramping.”

“Charles,” Raven starts in a quiet tone. “Please tell me that you know exactly what that sounds like.”

Charles does. He’d briefly entertained the possibility himself but the odds— 

“The likelihood of me having the gravidus mutation is three-point-three percent.”

“But it does happen.”

“Raven, Erik and I have been married for three years and dated for two. The greater part of that we have not used, well, you know.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably before continuing, exasperated. “If I had a secondary mutation, it would have presented by now.”

“More than half of gravidus cases present as a miracle baby,” Raven counters evenly. “Men who test positive for the mutation are recommended to go through fertility treatments to successfully conceive but if you ‘try’ enough without knowing that you're trying,” her hands explode open, “boom! Miracle baby.”

“It's a shame you're graduating this year. You would fit seamlessly into the genetics program,” Charles says.

Shuddering theatrically, Raven says, “Oh, god no. Between you and Hank, I have more than enough science in my life. I see interference equations in my sleep these days. Now let’s go. We’re getting you a pregnancy test. I’ll text Hank and let him know to start class without you.” 

"Raven, this is a complete waste of time."

"We don't know that yet!"

She gets up and rounds the table, pulls him out of his chair with a perfect balance between care and authority. An approach that hasn’t changed since they were small and he had a fear of climbing the big oak in the backyard.

“We haven’t even touched our lunch,” Charles says.

“We can take it to-go,” Raven tells him, waving it away. She eyes his cup of tea. “You should probably finish that though and order another one for better results.” 

Charles considers her, fond and incredulous, as she links her arm with his. “I think that we need to have another discussion about appropriate boundaries.”

*

“I’m pregnant,” Charles says faintly. He isn’t sure how much time has elapsed since the reading blinked to life but the wonder is still as raw and pure as the first moment.

“Yeah you are. Told ya so.” Aside from placing an out of order sign on the door, Raven hasn’t left his side, supporting him just as much as the bathroom sink at his back. Cautiously, she asks, “is this what you wanted?”

Charles nods immediately because there’s never been a time in which he hasn’t wanted children. A fact that Raven is fully aware of but he understands why the question needs asking. He'd planned for this to come later. He’s barely twenty-seven, barely into his tenure-track. Charles had imagined he and Erik mulling over which route to take, adoption or surrogacy, years down the road. He expected that there would be exhausting mountains of paperwork, a lengthy period of searching for a woman willing to sacrifice her time and body to be a birth mother, and social workers making numerous visits to their home to deem it fit for child-rearing. He had pictured sitting with Erik in their living room, hands cinched tight as they were finally told that they were to be parents.

This isn't how Charles planned for a baby to enter his life but it's right. He feels it in his marrow.

A misty-eyed Raven clasps Charles' face and kisses his cheek. “Congratulations, Charles. I’m so happy for you." She adds with a sly smirk, "I’d say also that I’m proud of you but it doesn’t look like you did much of anything except lie there and take it.”

“Goodness, Raven. Please do not ever talk around my child like that,” Charles says with a laugh. It sounds a bit delirious from the shock.

“I am going to a fantastic aunt, don’t you worry,” Raven says after a companionable silence, smiling brightly at him.

Affection for her and this brand new reality floods Charles’ heart. “Yes, I believe you will indeed be a fantastic aunt. Just as you are a sister.” He pulls her into a tight hug and breathes into her hair. “I love you.”

“Especially when I bully you into taking a pregnancy test,” she says when they’re at an arm’s distance. She lightly shakes his wrist. “So how are you going to tell Erik?”

Charles doesn’t hide the confusion from his features. “What do you mean? I just tell him, don’t I?”

Raven looks at him as though he should know better. “No, Charles. It’s a thing now. When you tell someone that you’re pregnant, it’s a big announcement. A lot of people film theirs to put on YouTube and have it for keeps. We could get you trending.”

“What? No. We don’t need all of that. Trending is not a priority of mine.”

“Aww, come on. It could be so cute! Don’t you want Erik to find out in the most precious way that he can?”

“I found out in a university bathroom stall by peeing on a stick!”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Raven says. She actually pouts. “You can be boring about the next one, Charles. _Charles_. Charles, please.”

“You’re really going to make me do this aren’t you?” Charles asks but it’s more for presentation’s sake because the more he ponders the idea, the more he desperately wants it. Sharing Erik’s reaction with millions of strangers isn’t appealing—he refuses to give on that—but having it recorded to keep forever, documenting his husband’s joy, would be well worth it so he agrees right before bolting to the nearest toilet. 

*

They decide on a small dinner at the mansion that weekend as a setting for the idea that Charles comes up with. Erik has a favored Tuscan wine that he indulges in very sparingly and Hank used to work at a product labeling company during his summers as a teen, knows a few tricks of the trade.

On the night of, Hank brandishes the bottle with a sheepish expression. “I went for a formal design. You didn’t specify but I thought that you would prefer a look of elegance.”

“You thought right. It’s always been as though we share the same brain. It’s precisely why I picked you for my assistant,” Charles assures him. “It’s absolutely lovely. Thank you for doing this.”

Hank shrugs and puts the wine away to chill. “It’s the least I could do. You’ve always treated me like family, accepted me as more than just your TA even before I started dating Raven. Any way that I can help, I'm pleased to do it.”

“You are family, Hank,” Charles tells him honestly and cups his shoulder. “I’m glad that you’re here to celebrate its expanding.”

"Sure thing. I think that Erik will be really happy th—," he pauses suddenly and coughs behind a fist. His smile is somehow fearful. Which can only mean one thing. "Really happy that we were moved to the bigger lab because, well, because you're so happy about it. Hey, Erik."

"Hank," Erik greets flatly while stepping up beside Charles. "You snuck right past me in the foyer."

"I was in a hurry to talk to Charles about, you know, the lab." Hank explains, gesturing animatedly. "And now that I've done that, I'm going to go check up on Raven."

"She's monopolized the television for now," Erik informs him.

"Thanks," Hank says with a jerky nod.

"How can someone survive being so awkward?" Erik asks as soon as he and Charles are alone.

Charles pinches him even as they share a chuckle. "Stop it."

"I mean no harm."

"Yes, you are very innocent, Mr. Lehnsherr."

Then Erik is watching him strangely for a few beats and a cold washes over Charles. He's terrified that Erik overhead all of it, that he simply waited for Hank to leave before addressing it.

"What's that look for?" Charles asks hesitantly.

"I'm worried about you," Erik says low and in a voice that's a stark contrast to seconds previous. A reluctant confession. "I'm just surprised that you arranged a dinner when you've been feeling so poorly. I don't want you to wear yourself thin."

"I'm not," Charles swears because his heart is breaking at the sincerity of Erik's unease, deeply rooted and springing high. Always expecting loss in his life. Charles acquires a fold in Erik's sweater and reels him in, smooths a hand over Erik's long torso. "I'm sorry that I've worried you but I wouldn't do this unless I was up for it, yeah? I feel better than I have all week. Everything will be alright. Truthfully."

His mind sends sentiments that words can't handle the value of.

Erik leans into his embrace, nods and hums his acknowledgement. Then contrite, "We're doing a terrible job of entertaining our guests."

Charles makes a noise of amusement. "Wow. That's awfully considerate of you."

Pressing a kiss to the top of Charles' hair, Erik murmurs, "Not even close. We've done this enough for me to recognize that the sooner we eat, the sooner they leave and I have you all to myself. Time efficiency."

"There's my husband," Charles lilts.

*

The table is set, a fragrant pasta fresh out of the oven and lit candles making their glasses gleam, when Charles excuses himself to grab the wine from the cooler, nerves very much alive.

Charles returns and he spots Hank’s slightly raised but fairly hidden phone in the corner of his eye, Raven pressed into her boyfriend’s side, practically bursting with giddy anticipation.

Gathering himself, Charles takes his seat and slides a glance at Erik. He keeps the face of the bottle to himself. “How about the Chianti for tonight?” 

“The Chian—what on earth for?” Erik asks in spectacular indignation, wide-eyed and choking on the water he'd been drinking.

Charles is suddenly struck with a fierce, keen impatience to see this man as a father. Raising a child with Erik is going to be the most marvelous thing that Charles has ever done. He quirks up a half-smile. "I see no reason not to. It was buried under a layer of dust in the cellar, it's been down there so long. Coincidentally, it matches quite nicely with the meal." He cuts a full grin to the couple across from them. "Glorious doesn't begin to describe it. My overwhelming favorite without a doubt."

Skeptically, Erik asks, "Since when? I bring this out and you're in the fridge searching for an IPA."

"Oh, I've always given this wine high praise, darling," Charles answers neatly, winking for effect. A connoisseur on Erik Lehnsherr and his buttons. "Perhaps you weren't paying attention."

"Charles, I don't know what's motivating this gamely persistence and I'm far from intrigued," Erik clarifies, fully unnecessary. "So can we not?"

"Erik, this was not the only bottle I found. There is more. If you're that serious about keeping a particular inventory, you can always order another." He unwraps the foil from the lip. "Raven, Hank, would you like to try some?"

"Yes, I would," Raven agrees. Philosophically, she concludes, "It'd be stupid for me to say no to all of that high praise." A shit-eating grin graces her face. "The ensuing fight is what's put me over the edge, Erik."

To Hank's credit, he doesn't spare a moment for Erik's death glare. "It sounds delicious."

"Wonderful," Charles says and palms the corkscrew nearby.

Erik preempts him from following through, however, by gluing the corkscrew to the tablecloth and placing his own palm over the top of the bottle. "First, they're barely of drinking age and fratty as hell. Wouldn't appreciate a good Chianti if they were drowning in it." He speaks over Raven's and Hank's protests. "Second, we are not opening a _seven-hundred_ dollar bottle of wine simply because the grass happens to be green today. That's insane."

"Fine," Charles sighs, having reached the point he was aiming for. _Time efficiency_. A flutter wings in his stomach as locks eyes with Erik, earnestly says, "I don't want to upset you any further. You're welcome to exchange it for another if you feel that strongly."

"I do." Erik grips the bottle firmly and stands, is a few steps from the doorway muttering, "Of all of the ridiculous—" when he freezes.

Charles watches Erik give the newly decorated Chianti a good, long look, knows how quickly the words sink in.

_DRINK FOR YOU & ME_  
_Have to stay dry until_  
_Baby Xavier-Lehnsherr_  
_ARRIVING SPRING 2016_

"Or Lehnsherr-Xavier. Plenty of room for debate," Charles ventures with care, the room plunged into a hush.

Erik turns his stare to Charles and his expression is open and disbelieving, hopeful and asking, _aching_. His mind is going at a speed that almost dizzies Charles but the most prevalent question is easy enough to answer.

Yes, Charles both thinks and says aloud. He can hear his own amazement. “Yes, my dear, I am very much serious.”

Erik walks back and Charles heads straight for him.

“Oh, Charles,” Erik breathes. The bottle falls to the carpeted floor because Erik uses both of his hands to reach out and rest their foreheads together. Charles can’t see the edges of Erik's awe. There are unshed tears collecting in his green-blue eyes. His knuckles tickle the skin of Charles’ ear from where his fingers are sunken in Charles’ hair and he keeps repeating, “How—how?”

Smiling, Charles jokes, “I don’t feel very comfortable going through the details with my younger sister and my TA for an audience. However, it would appear that I have a rare second mutation that allows for me to carry a child. Our child.”

“You’re sure?” Erik appears pained, sounds horribly pained and Charles knows innately that he is anything but so.

“I took two at-home tests and a blood test," Charles informs him so Erik will understand, have something to clutch on to, make what seems impossible real and visceral. He repeats himself. "Raven made me take two tests and connect with an obstetrician so yes, I am very sure.”

Not dissimilar to a slideshow, Charles flits through his non-lunch with Raven, the bathroom that smelled heavily of bleach and cleaner, the doctor's office and the longest two days of his life, receiving the confirmation call just that morning.

There's no other way to describe the extraordinary shift in Erik's features. It's childlike, the genuine enthusiasm and uncomplicated joy. So utterly unguarded that it tightens Charles' chest.

“My God! You’re pregnant!” Erik exclaims, watery in nature. “We’re going to have a baby. We’re having a baby, you and I.” Erik winds Charles in his arms and quite literally sweeps Charles off his feet, surging into a kiss. Raven lets out a cheer in the background and Charles is too thrilled to be embarrassed or admonish him. Instead he holds on and enjoys finally sharing this with Erik, having him know, just as ecstatic as Charles. His eyes are burning as he brushes away a few of Erik's free-falling tears.

"This is why you've been sick," Erik says, sounding sorry.

Charles nods. "A rampage of hormones, I'm afraid, but like I told you, everything will be okay. I'm okay." He noses into a kiss, meant to be soothing. It's sweet and thorough.

When they break apart, Erik lowers Charles and he's laughing, trembling a bit. “I'm an idiot. I should’ve guessed." At Charles' arched brow, he continues, "you tasted different.”

“Whoa there,” Raven shouts gleefully.

Hank clears his throat, ever the yin to Raven’s yang. “Uh, guys we’re still here. Still filming. Just an FYI.”

“Erik,” Charles chides.

“No, not that,” Erik says. He presses his mouth to Charles’, gradually turning the happy kiss into a smattering of soft brushes against Charles’ skin, his nose, chin, and forehead. His mouth again. “Kissing you was different. Metallic. I could taste it. Coppery but I couldn’t figure out the cause. It was this.” His eyes skip to Charles’ midsection and back up. His hands are forever stroking along Charles' ribs. "Can you..." 

"No, not yet," Charles tells him, sensing Erik's train of thought. "Supposing it can happen in utero. Unfortunately, I'm no expert. I'll have to do a bit of research."

A rush of air leaves Erik. “I can’t believe we’re having a kid. Holy shit.”

Laughing, Charles replies, “Well we have about nine months to become familiar with the idea. Closer to eight." He finger-combs Erik's hair and tilts his head, questioning. "Still upset over the Chianti?”

“Completely forgotten,” Erik answers, a note serious. Thoughtfully, he says, “I love you. I love—Charles, you, you and our child.”

Their child. The thought brings about an unbridled warmth and Charles can’t wait to be here again in a year’s time, to see their child in Erik’s arms, beautiful smiles mirrored. He loves Erik as much as he always has, always will but feels the wealth of two. He touches the corner of Erik's mouth, the gently curved crease there. “And we you.”

*

Maroon sloshes in two deep wine glasses.

"Is this wise?" Hank blanches. 

"Mansion, babe. Kind of like a hotel but for freeee," Raven sings into a bottle-cum-microphone. "Pass out anywhere."

Toothily, Erik beams. "I'm going to be a dad. I'll be damned if someone is not getting plastered but it can't be me because I'm going to be a dad."

A put-upon sigh. "What happened to making them leave?"

"A _dad_ , Charles."

*

When Charles is safely into his second trimester, Raven, wickedly brilliant, sends the video to his inbox with a parade of emojis in the subject line. Charles smiles as the video plays and he can’t help himself, thinking of a few people in his and Erik's circles who would probably be delighted by Erik's initial response to fatherhood. He posts it to Facebook before his 8AM.

When it winds up on YouTube with over half a million views by the time Erik gets home that night, Charles can honestly say it was out of his hands.

**Fin**


End file.
